


there is an impostor among us

by lowfunctioningpsychopath



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fear, Fear of Death, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Horror, Mild Gore, Murder Mystery, POV First Person, POV Multiple, Philosophy, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Psychological Warfare, References to Depression, Survival Horror, Thriller, i wish i could tag more but i don't want to give away the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 14,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowfunctioningpsychopath/pseuds/lowfunctioningpsychopath
Summary: Among Us is actually pretty scary when you think about it- so, here's my attempt at recreating that horror as realistically as possible. Here's a first-person-perspective of a game of Among Us among 10 players.
Relationships: Cyan & Orange (Among Us)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 79





	1. CYAN

It is a dark and… starry night. Space is infinite, planets and galaxies and universes and black holes, we’re just meaningless beings floating within its confines. Death happens in fractions of seconds, years worth of experiences stopped by simple rearrangement. 

Was that how Captain felt? Only his lower body remained, blood and bones sticking out, his spacesuit clinging to him like a second skin. What did he think about in his last few precious seconds? Was it something like, I’m going to die? Or: I’ll come back and kill you? Or: Will my crewmates avenge me? 

Where did his upper half go? Would it have been worse, having to see his lifeless eyes bugging out, or would it have been better, the depersonalization helping us cope, thinking of him in clinical terms: half a corpse, possibly animal. Which is more important: better for him, or better for us?

“There is an Impostor among us,” White announces. Names don’t matter here, only numbers, now colors. Again, it helps with the depersonalization: I can pretend everyone here are just color coded robots. “and the ship is failing.”

“What do you suggest?” Red asks. Without context, this would seem like a meeting of geniuses, planning repairment of a failing environment, but clouds of gloom- no, clouds don’t exist in space- hang over us. 

Ever intelligent, Lime speaks. “We need to fix the ship, and find the Impostor that murdered Captain.” His know-it-all nature is usual, however this time it arouses a spark of suspicion. Why state the obvious? 

“And we have to fix the ship, while assuming the Impostor is going to continue its murdering spree,” Yellow chips in. If only I could read their expressions, hear their voices, and deduce. If they all seem suspicious to me, wouldn’t my silence be damning as well?

So I talk, abruptly thankful for the (again) depersonalized tone I must be projecting, so they wouldn’t hear the tremble in my words. What’s scary is how… unreal this all seems. Put everyone behind a layer of anonymity, put everyone in an environment where no laws can reach, nothing seems lifelike anymore. This is a world of no consequence. 

“What we need to decide is what we do with the Impostor.” This is stating the obvious, again. I wish I could sense if what I’ve said was wrong somehow, by sixth sense or just a shift in temperament, but I can’t, because we’re hiding behind hazmat suits, I feel empty. I bet they all do too.

There isn’t any time for empathy. We all know that.   
Pink’s altered voice cuts through crisply, putting us all out of our misery. “Isn’t it obvious? Ejection.”

Not murder. Ejection. Nice of Pink to make it sound so okay.

Blue disagrees. “Don’t you think that’s a little too drastic?” Heads turn. Blue sits there, speechless, probably regretting his/her words with every bit of his soul. What a stupid thing to say, showing sympathy for a murderer? 

“No, unless you like getting killed,” Purple’s sarcasm is almost understandable, but it’s almost cruel today. “We should hurry up. Fix the ship, wait for the Impostor to make a mistake.” As if he’s already sick of the conversation, notifications appear on our tablets: a list of tasks to complete. “Let’s go.” He stands up, heads towards the exit.

“You do know what happens if the Impostor doesn’t make a mistake?” White yells after Purple, or as loudly as he could through his microphone, which isn’t much. 

“Yes, one of us dies.” Lime mutters, we all hear it loud and clear. In addition to these tasks, one of us needs to work on adjusting volumes. 

“Meet back every hour. Report bodies once you find them. Call an emergency meeting for emergencies.” White calls out again.

“I know!” Purple shouts back.


	2. RED

The ship was constructed to look inviting and warm, but it’s really a piece of transportation that separates you from the rest of the world, it isn’t ever going to be joyful. It feels dead. It is dead. Someone is dead, and in a horrible, gory way.

I don’t want to be next. 

If I were smart, I would have a list of suspects, but I wasn’t paying attention to the meeting, too consumed by my own fear, and now I’m afraid, because we’re going to fix the ship individually. What if I were killed, and no one was around to hear me scream?

Or, what if someone I trusted as a companion killed me, and left me there to be found?

Or, what if they decide I’m the Impostor, and send me out into space, so I can die alone and slowly?

I flinch as I notice Yellow trailing behind me. Fast steps down the small hallway. Yellow doesn’t call out, and a tremor of fear rushes straight to my head. If Yellow is the Impostor, I’m screwed, I’m too far from the emergency meeting button, I’m going to die now. 

Adrenaline, the closest substance to happiness (which says a lot) that neither of us could feel now, courses through my veins as I widen the gap, and jump into Admin, almost tripping over my own feet as I swerve around the corner, heart pumping furiously as I step into the room and pray someone is in there.

Someone is. But it’s Blue, who openly gave concern about the Impostor. My throat goes dry. Blue’s swiping his card, frustratedly and quickly, but we all know that the scanner is faulty, only average speed swipes gets it registered. Is Blue doing that on purpose? Why would anyone?

Anyone, except the Impostor. 

Like a slow motion horror movie, Blue looks up from the task, and at me. I glare back, more of an attempt to comfort myself than to intimidate anyone, no one could see me under this suit anyway. Don’t kill me, please. Where’s Yellow? I would turn my back and look around for Yellow, but Blue could just stab me in the back, so to speak. What do I do?

I remain frozen. What is Blue thinking? How best to decapitate me? I have to finish the wires, but I don’t trust my hands to not shake, nor Blue to not end me. 

“Red,” Blue breaks the silence.

“Yes,” I have one foot backwards.  
“I didn’t mean what I said at the meeting,” This time, the card goes through perfectly, the scanner beeps satisfyingly. The theatrics of the moment convinces me Blue must have planned his words somehow, and that’s menacing. “Drastic measures are necessary. It was just a moment of weakness.”

“Ah,” A moment of weakness would be staying here like a gullible idiot, waiting for a knife to my heart, which is making its presence known by thumping hard, a dull thudding that’s almost mechanical, even though it’s what makes me human. Am I human? “I see.”

“You don’t trust me.” The accusation is bitter and irritated, it feels like a serum to increase fear had been shot into my blood. Blue’s finished the task, he has no need to stay, except his anger is palpable. “Why don’t you?”

“I… I don’t trust anyone.” My voice doesn’t shake when it comes through the microphone. What is he thinking? Without looking back, I spin around and sprint away from Admin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there- I hope someone reads this, and if you are, thank you so much for paying this half-assed thing some attention! Please leave constructive criticism, I'm trying to improve. Thank you guys so much!


	3. PURPLE

Black and Orange didn’t speak during the meeting. Did they have nothing worthwhile to add, or are they just afraid to put themselves under spotlight, or is one of them an Impostor?

White spoke first. Just White’s natural leadership obsession showing through, or what?

Everyone spoke mostly the obvious. Why? Pink brought up the cruel suggestion of murder, and went so far to mollycoddle the word with “ejection”, as if that made it any simpler.

Cyan brought up dealing with the Impostor in the first place. Lime talked about arrangements. Red asked a pointless question. Yellow talked about the difficulty of the situation. And Blue… oh, that idiot. I don’t think Blue is the Impostor, it’s a mistake far too amateur for any killer, but others might not think so. 

It was disgusting, knowing any of those people were lying, and to each other so shamelessly. I ended it there. Actions speak louder than words.

So far, no one has gone far enough to make a direct accusation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I kind of messed up on the gender pronouns, they're all supposed to be open to any gender... sorry about that.


	4. CYAN

I remain silent, while Orange talks away. Orange was awfully quiet during the meeting, so why the banter now? I’m envious of what he talks about, the plot of a show I’ve never watched, and am not planning on watching, as if nothing has happened, Captain isn’t dead, we’re not suspecting each other while being under suspicion. I envy Orange’s ignorance. 

“So, who do you think?” Orange asks, a question unrelated to the topic. I take my time, tying the wire with the plier gently, letting Orange repeat himself. “The Impostor. Who do you think it is?”

Right now, you. Why this question? An attempt at playing innocent? I don’t buy it. 

How could I think that? What’s wrong with me? 

“Really, who do you think?” Orange rarely thinks words through before spitting them out, but it is a surprise to even me when he follows up with, “Staying quiet isn’t helping your case, either.”

The urge to gasp, shake my head, shake him by the shoulders, scream about how he could not accuse me of being such a depraved, soulless being is overwhelmingly strong, but I stop myself. Haven’t I thought about this, how suspicion is a two way route? To present myself as credible, I have to appear wary, but not paranoid, staying stone silent isn’t an option. While trying to decipher other’s words, I have to give a few of my own as well. 

“That’s rude of you to say. I don’t have anyone in mind, to be honest,” Who’s the common scapegoat? Who has blatantly expressed any form of discontent towards united decisions? 

Another horrifying thing about this situation is how when the majority of people believe someone else, you can tell all the truths and make oaths and slit your wrists, but they wouldn’t budge. Once a fair amount of people make their minds, there’s no changing them, and in fact, any denial would be seen as further damning evidence. 

As far as I can tell, the trick is to never get the spotlight shone on you at any point, but now Orange has forced one onto me, I could get eliminated so easily, either a little manipulation planted into others minds, or a simple act of murder, right now. Which would be worse? Physical pain and agony, or pain and agony at watching your killer walk free, while your crewmates abandon you, all because of one dumb mistake?

“You must be thinking of someone,” Again, I pray for mind-reading skills, or at least the ability to see faces again. “Okay, let’s say it together. Who we suspect. Three… two…”

“Blue.”  
“Purple.”

“Purple?” Well… I understand why, but I’m surprised at Orange’s trust in me, confiding about theories that aren’t popular. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t have anyone in mind, it’s because everyone has exhibited expected-yet-unorthodox behaviour, in different forms. I just plucked out what had to be the simplest answer, and the simplest explanation. But Orange… I briefly trust Orange, then wise up.

No one here is stupid. The Impostor should be the most intelligent. Our only option is teamwork, but how do you work together when you don’t trust each other? It’s a catch 22. 

This will be over soon. Or if it won’t be, at least I’ll be dead, and then I wouldn’t have to think about anything.

“Well, Purple was rushing the meeting to end.”

“Yeah, but maybe Purple was just worried about time running out,” I connect the last wire. One thing done. “We could interpret his confidence in not appearing suspicious as him being trustworthy.”

“It’s hard to trust anything. But one thing I’ve learned is that it’s dangerous to underestimate your opponent, but dangerous to overestimate them as well. You get what I’m saying?”

“Loud and clear.” Orange’s attempt at appearing erudite is almost adorable, and my put-up guard loosens for a second. That was a line straight from The Hunger Games. My skin crawls at the reality of the situation (for the fifth time), here I am, second guessing everything and everyone, even happy-go-lucky Orange. 

“What’s your next task?” Orange asks.  
“In Electrical.”

“Oh, mine’s in Communications. I guess we’ll have to split up.”

“Okay,” I say it like I’m not shivering. Even though no one is in the clear, Orange will fill the fear in the room with chatter, at least. Also, I’m truthfully, terrified of being alone, especially now. But I swallow it and convince myself it’s for the best. “Bye.”

“Bye!” Orange skips off, down the opposite hallway. I turn to leave. The lights flicker, and dim, and soon I’m standing scared in complete darkness.


	5. BLACK

The stupid knobs need so much adjusting. The room is humid, I’ve been in here for the past half an hour, sweating into my suit, frantically trying to get the task done. Then I can move on. 

“Dad?” He looks up at me, I can tell, he isn’t frustrated and weary like I am, always up for anything. Sometimes, I feel my kid is the opposite of me. “Are you done?”

“No, sweetheart, see? I have to adjust these knobs first.” I explain patiently, tampering down annoyance at the world.

“After this, can we go play the asteroid game?” Kid loves it. I suppose it’s some connection to real life back on earth, a shooting game that isn’t violent. I smile, for the first time since I boarded this ship.

“Of course.”

“Someone’s behind you,” Suddenly even he sounds concerned. “Where did he come from?” This is hardly the time to explain how shadows work to him, but I try anyway. I love and hate parenthood. 

“There’s no other way to come in here, except where we just came from, and obviously no one else is here, so don’t worry, okay? What’s behind me is just a shadow, which is created by…”  
By light. A light source. A light source against an object, but there isn’t any light shining down on me now. Something is behind me. Is it getting darker? “What’s happening?” He asks, panicky, looking around. “Who’s behind you?” 

“I don’t know.” I turn around slowly, to see-

My vision stops, the last thing my senses can grasp is the acute force of a knife in my abdomen, cutting metal through where intact flesh should be, as my head spirals for last thoughts and questions but the last thing I think is- my baby.


	6. CYAN

Bumping into walls and corners and boxes, I finally stumble upon Electrical, and manage to get to the control area. With my limited expertise, the lights come back on within five minutes. 

The sigh of relief I exhale is satisfying. What a mindless sabotage, seeing as I was merely five meters away. This would hardly affect any task-doing, so I don’t-

My God. 

Black. Black’s body. Black’s lower body, I mean. I now learn the description of Captain as “half a body” doesn’t do any justice, because Black’s entire spine remains, stained with blood and matted flesh all over, almost like he had to be scraped off. The edge where the rest of his body should be is jagged, suggesting a ridiculous amount of force, entry points, exit points, I can’t tell. Bile rises in my throat. 

His kid is sitting next to his remains. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

There’s no air in space, only what’s in my tank, it feels artificial and too clean, too clean for the scene. I should smell stink so bad I actually vomit, my eyes should water, my mouth should gasp, my ears should ring, but it doesn’t, even though it should. It’s grotesque and horrifying and tragic but all I can do, all we can do is go on as if nothing has happened, hope the Impostor is not as smart as we thought, pretend all these bodies aren’t people, aren’t lives, aren’t crewmates. 

Depersonalization. His kid turns his head up to me. We don’t speak. I need to report the body. I stay rooted to my spot, frozen in space. Nothing can bring Black back. Nothing can make this kid happy again. Did he have to see… see the deed? Watch his parent get disfigured? How could he live on?

“Cyan?”  
“You?”

Yellow and Pink have just arrived at the crime scene. I’m standing over the evidence, I haven’t broadcasted my discovery. My feelings of shock and sympathy and pain intensify, along with the dead pool of dread, it feels like Black’s blood had just been poured into my head. 

“Report it,” Yellow tells Pink, and something blares, summoning a meeting. “I didn’t think it would be you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapters- this is a pretty short work.


	7. WHITE

Cyan “found” Black’s body in Electrical, Yellow and Pink were witnesses to him standing over the body. It’s an open and shut case. I really don’t see the point of dragging this along.

My word is final: when I say we can begin to vote, Cyan would be ejected. Out of courtesy, I let his life continue a little while more, by not speaking. 

“No, I was in shock,” Cyan states again.

“You were right there, and you didn’t report it!” Pink reminds him, and us.  
“We saw you!” Yellow exclaims.

“If I were the Impostor, wouldn’t I not fix the lights, and run out after killing someone?” Cyan rebutts. 

Fair point, but not enough. We can’t risk leaving anyone suspicious on the ship, not when the situation is so dire. Cyan should never have put himself in this position, now we have no choice but to abandon him. Sorry.

“Cyan’s right. I don’t think it’s him,” Purple drawls, arrogance dripping from his words. Well, Purple, your iciness and superiority complex isn’t making you more likable, either. I wisely don’t voice that thought. “He’s a little bit of a pussy, but not stupid.”

Cyan looks torn between thanking him and hating him.

“No offense.”

Orange talks for the first time. “Cyan and I went separate ways after Storage, me to Communications and him to Electrical. It was after I got into Communications that the lights went out, then Cyan must’ve fixed them, then Black’s body was found out. The time frame doesn’t match up. Cyan couldn’t have killed Black.”

“You do know we can’t rule out the Impostor being some supernatural being that could kill within seconds?” Red snaps. “Personally, I find Cyan guilty. It’s so obvious. He was the closest to Electrical, there’s only one entrance in Electrical, that’s it. Why are we still fighting?”

“Why so testy, Red?” I ask. Red sounds ready to scream at any moment, even through the mic. “Are you okay?” You’re suspicious too. 

Actually, I thought Red, Blue, Purple were very suspicious, now Cyan’s on the top of the list, next on the list are Lime and Orange, then Yellow and Pink. But based on ready evidence… I’m ready to suspect Orange a little more. Why testify for someone so obviously guilty? Unless...

“Wait.” Everyone turns to look at Lime, who must have come to the same conclusion as me. There are two Impostors. “Vents.”

“Vents?” Pink, you’re really dumb. But what about vents? “What?”

“Vents. Just like what Red said, assuming the Impostor is some supernatural alien creature… they could travel through vents.” I can sense it. There’s a little life in the air, new information does that to you. Possibilities are open, Cyan is no longer a huge suspect. “So… there’s one vent in Electrical, close to where Black’s body was.”

“What you’re saying is…?” Blue interjects. I forgot about him.

“The Impostor goes through the vent… kills Black, turns off the lights, so that the next person that comes in looks suspicious, then leaves through the vents.”

“That’s… really smart. Good theory,” Purple admits. Purple got off his high horse to acknowledge someone else’s intelligence! “and that would give Cyan an alibi.”

“Yeah,” Cyan affirms. “Like I said, not me.”

Still suspicious. Lime might be right, but what if he wasn’t? He could’ve just given the Impostor an idea. Bad move in the long run. What if it’s Lime, then? How could he know? 

I hate this. It’s making me distrust everyone, even when they’re just being themselves.   
“I still say it’s Cyan,” Pink adds.  
“Same here,” Yellow adds. Do they have independent thoughts at all?  
“I agree,” Red adds. Wow. 

“I wish there was something I could say to change your minds, but apparently not. But I’ll repeat: I am not the Impostor.” Cyan pleads.

Should I share my theory, that there is more than one Impostor?

“I believe you.” Orange reassures.

It’s bound to be wrong. Purple and Lime would tear it apart, find twenty different flaws in my logic.

“Shut up, liar.” Red hisses. 

I’ll just keep it to myself for now. 

“God, Red, what’s wrong with you? You’re being even more paranoid than usual.” Purple presses on.

“I’m not being paranoid, just clear-headed. You’re next on my suspect list, Purple.” This isn’t discussion anymore, it’s just turning into an argument. I need some time to think, so I let them banter.

“Yeah, sure. I’m so hurt. You’re suspicious of everyone anyway.”  
“Okay, I changed my mind. At least Cyan knows how to keep quiet, instead of make himself look more suspicious by exhibiting anti team spirit.”

“Red, you’re an irrational idiot confusing what should be logical deductions with emotional context, and your temper changes as fast as your ex-” If that sentence were to finish, Purple would be screwed if Red were an Impostor.

Unless Red is aware killing Purple next would arouse suspicion, and not do that. Despite all the obvious displays of dramatics, no one on the ship is stupid. Just clouded judgement and trust issues. Or paranoia, in Red’s case.

So who do I suspect? 

“Whoa, Purple, calm down there.” Orange warns. 

“You should tell Red that,” Purple counters badly.

“Crewmates, can we move along, please?” Lime commands attention. After singlehandedly proving Cyan’s innocence, and suggesting advantages the Impostor might have, how could we not listen? “Let’s go to the voting stage.”

“Yes, let’s. On your tablets, please vote for whoever you think is suspicious.” A new screen pops up, with everyone’s profile available for clicking, including mine. Except Black’s. It would be cruel to put him there and put an X over his face just like that. “If you don’t want to vote, feel free to click ‘Skip Vote’.” 

VOTING RESULTS #1  
red - 2  
orange - 0  
yellow - 0  
lime - 0  
cyan - 2  
blue - 0  
pink - 0  
purple - 2  
white - 0  
skip votes - 3

“Red, Cyan, Purple have gotten two votes each, three people chose to skip. As a result, no one will be ejected.”

The votes tell the truth: someone lied just now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for sounding desperate, but please leave kudos if you enjoy my work. I'm wincing at the hits-to-kudos ratio.


	8. YELLOW

“That was ridiculous,” Pink rants. “Cyan was literally right there.”

“I know,” I agree, infusing disgust into my voice. “but the vents stuff makes sense.” Pink shrugs, already moving on in her head. 

“I hate all of them. They’re all liars. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone were Impostors except for me.” We’re traveling down the long hallway, our footsteps thumping against the floor. It looks nearly endless from here. The red dot on the cameras are on, a little bit of brightness in this dreary shadowy place.

“You think I’m an Impostor?” 

“No, not you. Everyone else.”

“Thanks for believing in me,” Thank God -no, God doesn’t exist- goodness for Pink. Where else could you find someone so pliant? Just kidding. “I have a theory, wanna hear it?”

It’s so hard pretending to be stupid. 

“Sure.” We finally reach the Upper Engine, while Pink starts working on aligning the output, I spill. 

“It’s Blue. Blue worried about what would happen to the Impostor, and Blue kept quiet the whole meeting just now.”

“Blue’s always quiet.”

“Yeah, but usually Blue doesn’t say anything at all, but this time he spoke up for the Impostor,” Pink is silent, digesting my opinion. “Right? It makes sense.”

“It does,” Pink finishes his job, moves over so I can do it too. “But I still think it’s Cyan. You saw him there too.”

“Yeah…” How should I phrase this? “But Lime’s smart, and Purple complimented him, and Cyan doesn’t really seem like a murderer. So my money’s on Blue.”

“True.” Yes! Coming around! 

“And,” I draw the word out slowly. “I know something about Blue that no one else does, which might just be the reason why Black died.” There’s something thrilling about this, idle gossip in a life or death situation. 

I don’t need psychic powers to know Pink is definitely interested. “Yeah? What is it?”

“First, I need you to promise something.”

“Sure! What is it?”

“Vote Blue with me, and help convince everyone it’s Blue,” Would Pink say yes? A rare nervousness shivers up my spine. “Okay?”

“Okay.” 

“Great!” I smile at Pink, then remember she can’t see it. In harmony, we start walking again, towards the Lower Engine. “Let’s tell all of them during the hourly meeting.”

“Alright,” Pink chirps. “For now, we stick together and avoid the vents. Spill the tea.”


	9. CYAN

My gratefulness towards Purple, Lime, and Orange is deep. If they didn’t come to my defence… there’s nothing gorgeous about death, but there is a lot of poetry involved.

My heart, would’ve stopped beating surrounded by long dead stars, my last memory, faceless beings pushing me into an abyss of deadly beauty, my body, thrashing and spasming for air, air, air… it’s always the physical horrors that ruin scenes. 

Oh God. Black. Dead. His kid, still there. 

How could I have let my own grief lead me astray? How could I have pushed him to the back of my mind so easily? He is an honorable father. Is. He’ll stay alive in my heart. 

“I feel so bad,” Orange’s voice lacks its usual spunk. “Black was the best person I’ve met. He had a kid, for fuck’s sake.” Orange never swears. 

“Exactly. His kid would’ve had to see…” It hits me all of a sudden: the Impostor, when ejected, would die peacefully, floating in sights most people never get to see. Black faced pain and horror and so much more. Why is the evil’s outcome less bad? The Impostor would never have to face what Black had to. Why is this so unfair? 

“Who do you think it is now?” I can tell Orange is tearing up. I want to offer a hug. I briefly hate myself for the barrier of distrust between us, because that means bodily contact is strictly out.

“I…” Lime’s out. Yellow was with Pink, so both of them are out. White, Blue, Purple, Red, however… and there’s Orange to consider. I feel my emotions stiffen, no no no you can’t suspect Orange, but I sense my logic nod, yes yes yes everyone’s a suspect. There are vents as well. The Impostor could be a shapeshifting supernatural killer that could very well mimic human emotions. “I don’t know. I still don’t know. I can’t think.”

Orange nods, then sniffles. Look at the impact this has left on all of us. “I get it. I can’t imagine how you felt.”

“Yeah.” I wish I could disassociate, get amnesia, forget everything about Black’s death. “It’s not something you forget easily.” I understand people keep their emotions on the inside, but the way they were talking just now… there wasn’t a single word mentioning Black, aside from the technicals. It’s like he never existed. 

Depersonalization feels like cheating sometimes. 

“Can I join you guys?” We turn to see White, shuffling his feet, sheepish. “I don’t dare to move around alone.”

“No one does,” Orange’s tone is inviting, but I hear the clear skepticism underneath: in that case, why do you trust us? I agree with Orange, but I empathize with White. 

“What happened really sucked,” What an understatement. Somehow, White’s casual use of language appears more like an attempt to sound authentic, but it’s repulsive. “I just… I’m so scared.”

Orange, who could be clumsy with words, a little oblivious, but overall a kind, adorable sweetheart, said so bluntly: “We don’t trust you. Especially now. If you’re so scared, shouldn’t you go with Lime or Yellow and Pink, not Cyan and I who were somehow involved with what happened?”

It’s logical, straightforward, and not overly rude- but Orange would never have said anything like that. I stare into the one-way glass on his suit, hoping to see Orange’s eyes, but I know it’s fruitless. What lies there? Orange has chestnut brown eyes that exuded kindness and honesty, but now all I can see is empty silver texture.

White doesn’t respond. Or he does, but I can’t see it. “Please.”

“Cyan, what do you think?” Orange remains unconvinced. The flicker of suspicion I’ve had grows stronger, towards both people.

“We’ll see. But for now… there’s twenty minutes until the next meeting. If someone has any other evidence against you, both of us are voting for you. If not, Orange and I have to discuss again.”

“Okay,” My toughness dissipates. White sounds thankful, and pleased. “I haven’t done anything wrong, so no one has any reason to suspect me.”

Orange and I look at each other without words. Despite zero eye contact, body language, physical movements whatsoever, I swear we thought of the exact same thing: that won’t help now.


	10. RED

I wish the next person to die would be Purple.

If only there was anything I could do to make that dream a reality.

Is there?

There isn’t anyone trustable left on this ship, except Lime maybe, but just because he shared valuable information doesn’t mean he’s in the clear. I’ll just go with the simplest formula: operate alone, avoid the vents, don’t be suspicious. Easy. 

I hate Purple. I destroy the asteroids, imagining him getting sliced through with lasers, body parts exploding from the inside. It makes me feel a little better. It really doesn’t. 

Purple’s right. I’m losing it, because I’m so terrified and angry at what happened, and fact remains I’m on this sinking ship with untrustable people who are all smarter than me, and more likable than me too. 

If anyone finds anything about me slightly suspicious, off into space I go. 

I hit the last asteroid with a lot less enthusiasm than the fire I just felt. Hate for Purple stays, but a little more self loathing ensues. Why am I like this? Why can’t I be just one thing? Smart like Lime, confident like Purple, level-headed like White, optimistic like Orange, deep like Cyan, bubbly like Pink, sociable like Yellow, mature like Black, kind like Blue? Who am I? The angry, anxious one people are eager to point fingers at. What do I have? 

I set aside the controller and let a tear roll free. No one is here, no one can see me cry quietly. I normally find the giant window gorgeous, space appealing, but now that there’s the possibility of dying out there, it’s not so beautiful anymore.


	11. PURPLE

White joined Cyan and Orange. By the looks of it, a few disagreements went down, but they’re fine now. Red should be in Weapons shooting asteroids, but he’s taking longer than the time needed. Yellow and Pink are off somewhere else, off camera. Blue is alone, off camera too. 

I have a theory to voice out. But it seems far-fetched and a little preposterous, so I won’t mention it. Maybe I should, to one or two people, but trusting anyone isn’t an option now. 

Assuming this theory is accurate, it’s not just a fact but a complication, and I honestly don’t think anyone can handle another wrench thrown into the mix right now. 

And another: Orange or White, or in this case, and, is/are the Impostor(s). It’s mostly guesswork, but Orange sticking to Cyan is like carrying around a portable alibi. As for White… taking charge casually was always his thing, but this time it seems more practised. And White did just join Orange and Cyan.

That would put Cyan in danger. 

I step back from the computer, contemplate the wisdom of running after the trio to make sure nothing wrong happens, but decide against it. It was just a theory anyway, I don’t have any other concrete evidence besides intuition. Anyway, there’s still the off grid ones to worry about.

Assuming Red’s struggling with the asteroids, that means Yellow and Pink, Blue are deliberating avoiding cameras. Or not? Maybe they’re just careless/illogical. Why wouldn’t you try to appear on camera once or twice, lessen your suspicion? They’re making it easier for me to figure everyone out.

But then. But then. 

If I go down that tangent, I’ll never get anywhere. So, maybe I should just stop thinking for a few seconds. Refresh. Chill. I want some water.

An hour has passed. A softer alarm blares, signifying a meeting. Time to see what’s new.


	12. BLUE

“It’s Blue.”

Pink, why? Who put that idea in your head?

“Why?” I ask, at a complete loss for words. There’s a better way to phrase this question, I’m sure, but the single syllable just falls out of my mouth. 

“Makes sense. First of all, you were worried about what would happen to the Impostor. Secondly, you kept quiet the whole meeting.” Pink looks to Yellow for a fraction of a second, then back at the room in general, looking plastic because of the ridiculous pink colored spacesuit. “Thirdly… you have a grudge against Black.”

“A grudge?” Lime beats me to it.  
“What’s it?” Purple sounds surprised.

“I don’t have a grudge against Black!” I scream, the volume coming out two octaves lower.

“Turns out,” Pink’s airing dirty laundry like it’s nothing, yet somehow it’s now condemning evidence. “Back on Earth, Blue and Black were best friends until Blue’s wife left him for Black. Blue claimed to be over it but apparently not.” Pink isn’t even addressing me, but everyone else, like I’m not even here. It’s the most trivial thing to get angry about.  
“I’m not the Impostor! I didn’t kill anyone!” I repeat.

Everyone goes silent.

“I don’t know…” Red seems calm, which is infuriating. “...well, you seem like the only one with a motive so far. And it does make sense… no Impostor would pick to kill Black first, the least problematic person here.”

“True.” Cyan agrees.

“You seem really on edge, Blue.” Orange points out, and I briefly consider punching him. The room sways, everyone looks mechanical and heartless. I hold the edge of the table to stop the feeling of falling. “Are you okay?”

“Can we just move on to voting?” Purple’s voice cuts through. “White?”

“Is there anything else anyone wants to discuss?”

“No,” A few speak in unison.

That’s it. They’re going to vote me out. No. No. No. “No!” Everyone shifts their heads slightly, look at me, you can just tell they’re thinking: oh, God, what now? “It’s not me! Guys, how could you believe Pink?”

No one speaks. Not even Pink in retaliation.  
“Start voting,” White commands.

VOTING RESULTS #2  
red - 0  
orange - 0  
yellow - 0  
lime - 0  
cyan - 0  
blue - 5  
pink - 1  
purple - 0  
white - 0  
skip votes - 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCUSSION TIME! Share your theories in the comments down below, place your bets now because things are going to get a lot faster from now onwards.


	13. CYAN

I thought of the process of ejection as a simple thing. You’re the most suspicious person. You end up in space. You die. I was too focused on the ends. Gross oversimplification. I didn’t think of all the little things in between: knowing no one trusts you, getting escorted/handcuffed to your death, walking down the hallway to Navigation, staring at everyone for the last time before facing the known-yet-unknown.

I stay seated as everyone stands up and starts moving.

Blue is resistant, thrashing. Pink restrains him with some fancy self-defense skills, pinning his arms against his back. Blue slumps, knowing he can’t fight, then kicks the floor hard. The sound is muffled somehow. I’m not here. I’m not watching sophisticated murder. I can’t see, I can’t feel, I can’t think.

“Cyan?” Orange’s voice cuts through.

Stay. Stay here mentally and emotionally for Blue’s last moments.

Why am I feeling sympathy for a murderer?

“Are you coming?” Lime’s voice. Why is no one else as affected as I am?

“Come on. Are you coming?”  
“I think Cyan’s dissociating.”

“Leave him, then. He doesn’t want to see this.”

“Seriously? Let’s go.”

“I’m not! I’m not the Impostor! You guys can’t kill me!”

The last of sounds dissipate as I stare off, the scenery blurring, like freeze frames stuck in space. There’s only me in the cafeteria, there’s only me in this world. 

Blue. 

At least everything will be okay now.


	14. LIME

Blue out of the picture. One down. 

No one is happy about it, understandably.

After we disperse, I single out Red and fake sadness. Honestly, what much is there to be sad about? Justice has been served. I broke the contact barrier, stroking Red’s back, but none of us appeared to be very worried about that so all is well. 

“At least everything would be okay now.”

I doubt it. 

Purple blurts it out as we are leaving Navigation, back to our respective tasks: “There are two Impostors.”

I underestimated Purple. Everyone stops short, staring open-mouthed (or at least I think they would be open-mouthed), rushing to analyze Purple’s words.

“Why do you think so?” Pink gasps. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” Purple responds in the irritated way he always does whenever anyone questions his intellect. He really can be the peak of arrogance sometimes. “Think about it. Assuming Cyan isn’t one, then someone else must’ve used the vents to get in, then out. But then, who happened upon the scene? The Impostor would’ve had to know which vents to use, and who was going in and out of the room to accuse Cyan. That’s a lot of work for one person.”

“The Impostor could just be smart,” Yellow quips. Stop disagreeing with everything. “Also, are you saying it’s me now? Because I caught Cyan in the act?”

“Maybe that’s exactly what he’s saying.” Someone says in a muffled voice.

“Yes, that is. The timing is too perfect.”

Yellow does not seem happy with this.

“Well, Purple, you’re not exactly clear, either.”

“I know, which is why I am actively trying to prove my innocence by making sure there’s no one traitourous left on this ship.” Purple’s tone is all business. “But don’t worry. I’m suspicious of everyone after all. And I have a theory to prove.” 

“Which is?” White sounds interested. Why are they interested? I don’t see the positive effects of enhancing negativity in this situation. 

“Well, I’ll assume for now Blue is an Impostor, but even that is up for debate. But it’s convenient for now, so let’s just say Blue is. That means there’s either one, or zero Impostors left.”

“Yes…” Orange is barely following. People can be really stupid sometimes. I do appreciate Purple simplifying his terms for idiots like Orange and Pink, though. 

I can be arrogant too, yes. But I keep it to myself, and am tolerative. That’s what makes me just that little better than Purple.

I am kind of grateful for him being the one to voice out this theory, though. I would never do that. But… something about the way Purple is acting is almost eager to impress.

“So we see if anyone gets killed next, and who. Simple.”

“What do you mean ‘who’?” Orange asks.

“Oh, I have a theory.”

“And what is it?” Red presses on. 

It’s a really obvious reason why Purple is refusing to share, isn’t it.

“So that the Impostor is free to act. This is simple logic, guys.”

“Okay, Purple, we get it. We’re all idiots and you’re a genius. No one’s exactly trustable, you know. Pretending to be smart isn’t going to make you more believable.” Red defiantly turns his torso away while saying this, the universal sign of disapproval and shut-up-I-hate-you.

“I’m not pretending to be smart, I am smart. Also, sharing information helps everyone, instead of getting angry and defensive at everything. Grow up, Red.”

With that, Purple walks off.

“I hate him,” Red snarls. “I hope he dies next.” Then Red strides off. 

“Now that the drama queens are gone…” Yellow mutters, and Pink chuckles. A real snort of laughter, maybe the first one I’ve heard so far. “I’m going to Shields. Anyone with me?”

All of us stare at him. 

“What? If I do get killed, at least someone knows who was with me, right?”

“I’m going to be in Weapons, though.” Pink sighs. “We’ll be seperated.”

“It’s fine, I’m sure we’ll meet up soon. Anyone else?”

“I’m going to be fixing wires along hallways,” I tell them.

“I’ll be with Cyan 'till the death part.” Orange sounds relaxed, and for a sudden I wonder if there’s something romantic going on there, but I nicely shut up. “Gotta go, Cyan’s still alone there.” 

“Wait for me!” White rushes after him.

“Okay.”

I turn to leave.

“Lime?”

Red appears at the other end of the hallway, and I jump. He was listening the whole time. My caution heightens. “Yes?”

“Can we go around together?” Red takes steps towards me, my heart chills. Even though I know Red wouldn’t kill me now, the purposeful way Red’s advancing is slightly intimidating. 

“You trust me?” The words tumble out after one another without much consideration.

“Yes.”

“Why?” It would be suspicious to not be suspicious. This game of shit is just going back and forth, back and forth until a conclusion is settled, and I can’t decide whether that’s logical or not.

“Because… well, you’re not so bad. And you’re smart.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m trustable.” Do I sound vulnerable? My mind spins, I’m looking for different responses. My voice sounds worse through the mic in my suit, trapped in an airless space, I can hear the faint echo.

“Well,” Red shrugs. “I’m willing to trust you.”

“Why didn’t you tell the group you were going to be with me then? What if one of us dies?” I almost said ‘if one of us killed the other’, but bit down the words in the nick of time.

“Because I’m developing a theory of my own too,” Red stops right in front of me. We’re the same height, but I feel smaller. “Just because I’m not a genius doesn’t mean I can’t think, Lime.”

“Um, okay, well, where are we going?”


	15. ORANGE

I watch Cyan and White carefully. We’re in the Reactor. There are two vents here, but I don’t know where either of them go. 

I jumped to Cyan’s defence during the first meeting just because the timeframe wasn’t right, but when I think about Red’s words: “the Impostor could be some supernatural monster!” or something, I don’t remember the exact quote, it makes sense.

And White… the way White just takes charge at meetings, barely speaks, only offers the bare minimum in conversation… it’s enough to accuse someone of, I’m just saying.

One thing I’m sure of, however, is that if anything does happen here, everyone knows whodunnit. I took care to mention I’ll be with Cyan, and White too. 

Solution: I die, then we know Cyan and White are the Impostors.

Settled. Simple.

Surprisingly, I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of the scary acts people can commit, murder for example. I’m afraid of the world. I don’t want to prey on anyone, but I refuse to be prey either. However, I can make an exception in this case.

I push the thoughts of death somewhere else. 

I hate how while I’m not afraid of getting murdered, I’m afraid of all the complicated little emotions that come with unrequited liking. It would suck, knowing you fell for someone who barely seems to agree with you at all.

I hate how one second I don’t care, then the next I feel I will die. I hate the rollercoaster everyone’s on right now. I hate this whole ship and honestly, I somewhat wish I could get voted off, because I can’t bring myself to suicide but I can definitely deal with it when a whole group of people decides I don’t get to live. 

“Guys,” I have to talk, I can’t be kept alone with my thoughts. “who do you guys think is the Impostor? If it isn’t Blue, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” White lies.  
“Me neither,” Cyan lies.

Is it too much to ask for? Some honesty? How could they have no hunches at all? “Seriously? There must be someone you suspect.”

“I don’t want to point any fingers.” Cyan states, kind of defensively.

“I think you should now. No point of letting inaccuracy get in the way of brainstorming.”

“Brainstorming is for creativity, not deducing,” White’s words intend to shut me down, but they just make me want to explode. People don’t take me seriously because they think I’m all happy-go-lucky or something. Not remotely true. 

I look to Cyan for something, and I pathetically realize what I want is reassurance. 

“Orange’s right, let’s brainstorm.” Gratitude overtakes me. “I think-”

“You agree with whatever Orange says anyway.”

“What’s wrong?” Cyan’s concern is charming but indulgent, like coddling a toddler trying to understand algebra. I smile a little. Why’s White irritated, anyway? I always thought of him as collected.

“It’s true. Both of you are so madly in love with each other.” White makes it sound like an insult, which is strangely infuriating. Love shouldn’t be regarded as a vulnerability, it’s a wonderful thing. Cyan looks at me, then the floor. “You know, now that I think about it, it would make the most sense if…”

Oh my God. 

“What would make the most sense?” I ask, trying to sound curious but only angry. I know what you mean, bastard. “What are you trying to say?”

“White,” Cyan’s tone is controlled. “if you have an idea, you should share it.”

“I think the both of you are the Impostors.”

There we go. Honesty, for once.

“We’re not!” Cyan gasps.

“You said ‘we’re’. Why are you speaking for Orange? See? I’m out of here.”

Cyan takes a step towards White, who’s making a mad dash out of the place, but I stop him by placing my arm against his chest. He looks to me, questioning. 

“Chasing after him would look even worse.”

“I… you’re right. But what’s wrong with him?”

“We’ve all been really on edge lately,” I wish he could see me smile under my suit. “But that was a special case.”

“What are you saying?” Cyan asks tentatively. 

“You’re smart. You know what I’m saying.”

Cyan remains quiet, and so do I. The only sounds are the spaceship’s mechanics operating in the background, keeping us alive for now, and Cyan’s sigh.


	16. PURPLE

New alliances have been formed, and old ones have been broken. Yellow and Pink are in two different places, both off camera. Lime and Red are together, which is kind of funny, since they are on opposite ends of the intelligence spectrum. Cyan, Orange, and White were together, up until White ran out of the room. What happened there? 

Maybe Cyan and Orange are the Impostors, and they just tried to off White. But if that’s the case, White wouldn’t have stood a chance, so that’s out. It’s definitely some petty misunderstanding.

Why can’t everyone be more serious? There’s a lot at stake here. I reach to rub my forehead before remembering I’m wearing a spacesuit.

Alarms go off. They’re the ones that blared when Black was killed. 

There’s a new body.

Oh, this is actually quite fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos if you enjoy the story, and comments to let me know what you think! I'm really sweating over the kudos-to-hits ratio now, I'm worried about the quality of what I've written so far.


	17. CYAN

White found the body, and is currently explaining everything in detail, not omitting the part where he suspects us very much.

“If you say you were with Cyan and Orange the whole time, and you didn’t see any of them kill Pink, how could you accuse them?” Purple is now treating White like how he treats Red. It’s kind of nice about Purple how his hatred towards certain people isn’t personal.

“I swear to God!” White is losing it, which is unnerving. White’s always composed and cultured, but then White spills a series of expletives to the room at large. We all stare in horror.

“White,” Orange was snappy just now, but now he’s coaxing carefully. It must be for the best, it wouldn’t help if any of us appeared annoyed at White right now, but suspicion fills the blanks between his words. I’m ashamed of myself. “Calm down. Where did you find the body?”

“Wait, no,” Lime stops White as he starts to speak. “Everyone say where you were first, with who. I was with Red.”

“I was with Orange and White, but like White said, he ran off after getting suspicious of us.” Orange’s suspicion of White isn’t unwarranted. “First he makes an excuse to get out of the room, then he discovers Pink’s body?”

“Exactly!” Purple pipes up. Purple sounds animated, almost happy as if he’s glad I was able to make a logical deduction. I can’t decide whether I’m offended or complimented. 

“I am not an Impostor!” White shrieks.

“I miss Pink,” Yellow murmurs. We all look at him. They were inseparable until now. 

For a really selfish moment, I’m happy it was White who stumbled upon the body, and is going to be shoved off the ship soon, regardless of his innocence. He mocked Orange and I. 

That selfish moment passes quickly, and guilt and shame envelops me. What’s wrong with me? Can I blame my warped desires on this deteriorating environment, or myself only? I wish I weren’t too weak to fall victim to this.

“Guys, seriously. There was no one else in Weapons. But it’s not me.”

“You’re not making a very good argument.” Purple points out.

“What can I say, except that I’m innocent?” 

“Logically,” Everyone listens when Lime speaks. “you were the only one there, and also the only one freaking out, and the only one directly accusing not one, but two people of being Impostors without any proof whatsoever except: they might be in a relationship.”

“Wasn’t that the exact reason why we voted off Blue just now? Do you see how fucking ridiculous your reasoning is? When we all agree on Blue with that stupid excuse, it’s okay, but when I do, it’s not?”

I wait for Lime or Purple to completely rip his words apart.

“You’re taking things out of context.” Lime states weakly.  
“This and that were two different things.” Purple states weakly.

“See? You two don’t even have a plausible explanation. You can’t vote me off so easily just because I found the body. Because then, why isn’t Cyan off the ship? We’re voting people off based on weak evidence.”

Lime looks shaken. 

White has a very solid point. We are talking about human lives here, we can’t kill- eject- people so easily. No one speaks up, however, because there’s the harsh truth again: disagreeing with the majority gets you outed.

Someone speaks up.

“White. Poking holes in bad decisions in the past isn’t a great way to defend yourself. If your reasoning for not voting you off is because ‘we didn’t vote anyone off last time for the same reason’, that’s illogical. Our job is to decide who’s the most suspicious based on current context, and the fact remains that time is running out, we have to make drastic decisions that will save everyone in the long run.” Purple, you are amazing. 

“Shut up. You’re not making any sense.”

“There we go.” Purple gestures a hand at him, like presenting a joker. 

“I hear you,” Yellow’s voice is weird, as if he’s gritting his teeth. “I’ll vote for White.”

“Yeah,” Red is surprisingly reasonable. Lime must have been working magic on him. 

“So it’s agreed?” Lime is casually taking over White’s position, which might be a good thing, considering how unfit White is. 

Skepticism remains, however. If White isn’t the Impostor- what’s left is the two geniuses, Lime and Purple; the most seemingly innocent being; Orange, the seemingly irrational/stupid beings, Yellow and Red. It’ll get a little too hard to tell, then. 

What am I saying? Am I suggesting White isn’t the Impostor?

One horrifying thing about this situation is personal selfishness and fear. Even if I do have a sound argument about anyone’s innocence, I would refuse to voice it out to not seem suspicious. 

It’s a game, in a way. A twisted, heartless one, where you save yourself and yourself only. The rest are pure casualties. This thought makes my heart- the nice, kind, loving part of me break, but my head- the calculating, sensible, myself-first part of me strengthen.

No. If I were intelligent and caring, I would think of a way to save everyone, including the innocent, to let the rest of the crew go on. But I’m too selfish. I can’t. I can’t do it. 

“Cyan?” Orange.

“Yes?”

“You okay?” Is everyone looking at me?

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Can we start voting, Cyan? We don’t have time for you to disassociate. White looks like he’s going to start killing again, if that’s possible-”

The ship tilts. We all feel it, the minute the ship goes uneven, our weight sways, I hold onto the table for support. It passes fast, like when you’re going to fall but catch yourself first. 

It’s a reminder that we don’t have much time.   
It’s a direct warning from the Impostor.   
We all look to White, as if he’ll provide the answer.

It’s getting harder to tell the difference between myself, and the crew. We’re all the same, aren’t we? We’re in the same sinking ship. It’s getting harder to maintain a clear head, because I am absolutely losing it, barring out any worldly distractions, barely paying attention to social situations anymore. It’s a fool’s mistake, one that will get me killed sooner or later.

We all die anyway.

“I’m not the Impostor.” White’s voice is low and dangerous. I don’t care, I’ve looked away. Someone gasps audibly, the sound like an electronic glitch rather than a human-

Wait. 

Then why did White’s voice sound so real?

I look.

White took off his spacesuit. There’s a human body underneath, just how White looks before we all donned the suits and boarded the ship… average height, brown hair, brown eyes, dark skin, shirt, pants, socks. A human. An actual human. Not a color-coded sentient being. A body of flesh and blood. 

“You’re going to die!” Yellow shrieks, standing up. 

“I’ll die either way, right?” White’s face- what was White’s name?- James- John- Jake- what? How could I have forgotten? How could I have let this dying space with no oxygen become my new reality? How could I have let myself forget in the name of amnesia? How? 

“You’re turning blue.” Purple says, rather unnecessarily, for a fleeting moment I wish White will gather his last breath to slap Purple silly.

What is wrong with me? What am I becoming?

“I know,” White wheezes. “I just… want…”

“What is it?” Ever eager to fulfill a last wish, Orange asks, voice full of concern and empathy, almost like he used to be.

“...all of you to know… you killed the wrong person.”

Killed. Not ejected. Not voted off. Killed.

White’s human body reminds us all of what this really is: a democracy deciding on a murder. Power plays deciding where someone’s life should end. Accidents, coincidences, manipulations, accusations, grudges, toxic mindsets, all in play. Personal opinions and feelings involved in what should be a completely detached situation. 

We killed Blue because of his past, even though we’re in the present.  
We are killing White because…

We killed White. He just fell. 

I almost got killed because of one careless coincidence of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

We’re the killers. 

I’m a killer. 

VOTING RESULTS #3

red - 0  
orange - 0  
yellow - 0  
lime - 0  
cyan - 0  
purple - 0  
white - 0  
skip votes - 0  
[inconclusive]


	18. YELLOW

What’s going to happen to the body? Are we just going to leave it there? I’m not touching it. Some Good Samaritan like Orange can f- suck it for all I care. I just want all this to be over. 

Everyone’s dispersed. Cyan, Orange, and I are left. As expected, Orange walks over and crouches by the body. Cyan remains motionless. Perfect.

“Cyan? Can we talk?” I hope I’m playing up the idiot-who-lost-a-friend part well enough. Except I’m not even acting that much, with my face hidden.

“Yes.”

“Orange… do you mind if I steal Cyan away for a bit?”

“Sure. Just don’t kill him.” Orange remarks dryly. 

It’s dark humor, and completely off-brand for Orange. Cyan and I both freeze and gape at him for a minute, but he doesn’t even look up from Jeff. Jeffrey Kingston. A human body.

“I won’t.”

When it becomes apparent no one is going to say anything more, and I get impatient enough, I drag Cyan by the arm out to the hallway. The sudden contact should keep him surprised enough.

“I… I miss Pink.”

“Yeah,” Appealing to Cyan’s biggest weak spot: empathy for everything. “Deepest condolences.”

“We shouldn’t’ve split up. I could have stopped this.”

“What’s happened has happened.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry, I just… I think… I…”

“What’s wrong?” Cyan’s curiosity is almost rude, then he catches himself, picking his next phrase carefully. “It’s okay, get it out of your system. Take your time.”

I hate Cyan. We should’ve voted him off the first meeting. I hate his casually manipulative, thought-out words, his pretentiousness, fake deep silent quotes, everything. 

I’ll kill you. No, I’ll do worse. 

“The… Impostor… I think…”

“You think you know who the Impostor is?”

“Yes… can I trust you?”

“Of course!”

Hmm. He must really be losing his marbles if he barely bothered to ask the “how could you trust me” question I expected him to ask. I nod, as if I’m captivated by his honesty. I’m captivated by his idiocy. 

“I think it’s Orange.”

“Orange?” Cyan takes a step backward, like I slapped him. Damn, wish I could. “Why do you think so?”

Not “why?”, it’s a much more opinion-focused question: “why do you think so?” it somehow delegitimizes my theory, and that offends me. How could anyone stand to stay close to this son of a bitch? I take a breath.

“He… well, I need to confirm something with you first. I didn’t want to bring it up at the meeting just in case I was wrong, so I’m telling only you now so you can confirm his alibi.”

“Okay,” Cyan’s wary. He’s not leaning in towards me the way you should when I just announced this is insider info, so he’s wary of me. Why are you wary of me? If anything, you should be wary of Orange!

I need to calm down. I need Cyan on this. Orange is the Impostor.

“He hasn’t been acting like himself. Yes or no?”

“I can’t give you a firm answer to that. We’ve all been influenced by recent events, I wouldn’t count a little dark humor as-”

“Jesus Christ, yes, or no?”

Big mistake. Should not have lashed out there. It’s okay, I can still turn this around. Yes! I can do it!

“Yes.”

“Okay. Did Orange ever leave your sight? You were with him the whole time, right?”

“Yes… well, there was at the beginning, we split up, I went to Electrical and you and Pink found me there,” Cyan breaks off abruptly, is he worrying about me getting upset because he mentioned Pink? “Um, sorry. But that was where it was.”

“Orange said he was going to Communications, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the lights were off, right?”

“Yes…”

“Orange could’ve turned around in the dark, killed Black, and framed you.”

“What?” Cyan isn’t convinced immediately. I thought he would be dumber than this. At least he’s attempting to think it over… “No. That would be too fast. Just like what everyone said, the timeframe is faulty.”

“Come on. Shapeshifting mutant? Also, Orange is just too innocent. Everyone has been suspected at some point, but Orange has been squeaky clean so far. Isn’t that something?”

“You have been squeaky clean so far too, Yellow,” Don’t let him get to you! “Thanks for sharing this with me, I won’t tell anyone, but your theory doesn’t seem quite accurate.”

“Come on,” Why can’t he just listen to me? What is wrong with everyone here? “Think about it! Vote Orange out with me!”

“No way.”  
“You’re just so in love you’re blind!”

“Stop shouting. Orange might hear.”

“Yeah,” I’m going to kill this asshole. “Orange, Orange, Orange! Everything’s about Orange with you! Think about it!”

“Sorry, Yellow, I’m really sorry for you. How about you come along with the both of us?” 

I have Cyan’s sympathy. No, not sympathy. Pity. Fuck you!

“I’m not coming along with you two Impostors!” I scream. “We’ll vote you two off next! I’ll tell them you vented from Shields to Weapons to-”

Cyan’s walking away.

“Did you hear me, or not?” I start walking towards him, but he just picks up his pace and almost runs into the cafeteria. “I said-”

“I heard you.”

Not Cyan. Cyan turns around too, to see… Red and Lime.

“What are you guys doing here?” I snarl at them.

“I thought it was suspicious how you wanted to talk to Cyan only, so we stayed back to eavesdrop,” Red’s voice is laced with a smirk. Why is he smirking? What’s going on? They eavesdropped! Fury piles up faster in my throat. “Well, good thing we did, right?”

“Why is it a good thing?” Cyan asks.

“Yellow just said something very crucial.” Lime’s voice has the same knowing smirk. He sounds happy. How dare he? What did I say that was so crucial? It was…


	19. LIME

Yellow is such an idiot. He has been doing pretty well so far, then he went ahead to lose his mind and make this amateur mistake. 

Purple sighs. “Any last words?”

“Fuck all of you.”

Purple chuckles. “Fair enough.”

We’re standing right where Yellow should be ejected. I’m feeling a level of relief and anxiety I didn’t even know I could have. “Is there another Impostor?”

“How would I know? And even if there was, why would I tell you?”

“Also, fair enough,” I’ll just let Purple do the talking. “Wait a minute. You said ‘how would I know’. Emphasis on the how.” Exactly, Purple! If Yellow wanted to rub in our noses at the fact he knows something we don’t, he wouldn’t have had a slip of the tongue like that.

“So you’re saying he doesn’t know if there was another Impostor?” Cyan’s hysteria seems to be trending towards ‘bold and logical’ at the minute. That was a mean thing to think. Just don’t say it out loud.

“Well, we better pray it’s only you. I can’t stand this Mafia game anymore.” So, Orange’s defense mechanism seems to be bitterness and sarcasm. 

“Mafia?” Purple asks.

“Mafia. That party game? Oh my God, you don’t know what Mafia is? You’re a different level of nerd.”

“You-”

“Guys, let’s take care of the matter at hand first.” I stop the petty argument before it escalates into a fight. 

“I hope all of you die,” Yellow doesn’t sound threatening at all, just butthurt and desperate. “and if there were another Impostor, I hope they properly disfigure each and every one of you.”

“I hope that wouldn’t happen, Yellow,” I hate it when people try to get menacing with me. It’s not scaring me at any rate, it’s just… strangely interesting, seeing people terrified. “But if it does, it’s comforting to remember you died first, because of avoidable stupidity.”

“Exactly,” Cyan murmurs darkly as we watch, detachedly, Yellow floating off into space until he turns into a faraway dot.


	20. RED

We scattered after a few long moments of silence. 

Is it over? 

I never expected it to be Yellow, to be honest. This is making my trust issues worse. I thought of Yellow as… well, the second pea in the pod with Pink. I had no idea Yellow could be cruel enough to kill Pink.

My God.

“I’m worried.” I tell Lime.

“Why?” Lime doesn’t sound fazed at all. I catch myself. How can I tell anyway? Everyone’s tone is mostly indistinguishable. 

“Do you think there is another Impostor?”

“Well… hard to say, but you heard what Yellow said.”

“You’re the smartest here, you must have some better idea!”

“I’m not the smartest,” Lime sounds defeated. Why? What’s going on? Not the first time I’ve wished I’m better at picking up social cues. “Purple is. If anything, go ask Purple.”  
“Purple might not want to talk to me.” That’s true. Purple exudes pure arrogance and iciness, and after all, I’ve been categorized as ‘temperamental idiot’.

“I’m sure Purple will, Purple’s not unreasonable.” Lime says this as reassurance, but it barely reassures me. “You’ve taken some strides, right? You’re managing your issues well.”

“But-”

“You know I’m right. Purple isn’t too much of a dickhead, as long as you can stand the ego. Go, talk to him.”

“Why do you want me to talk to him so badly?”

Lime looks left and right. Leans in. Then lowers his tone: “It’s a way of lessening suspicion. I’m considering the possibility there are more Impostors than we think there are, and if the two of us encounter any bodies, we’re screwed. Best to keep solo.”

“What?” I don’t follow this reasoning. “Wouldn’t it be better to go as a duo?” This doesn’t really make sense...

“No. If you’ve noticed a consistent pattern between the last few voting meetings… you can see that the person who found the body is the person who gets voted off. Right?”  
“Yes…”

“Right now, the best strategy for innocents like you and me is to not seem suspicious at all, that way you’ll be avoiding any chance of getting voted off.”

“Yeah, but…” There are flaws in this logic, but I can’t really grasp them and express them. It makes sense, on paper. But there’s something fundamentally, dangerously incorrect about this reasoning that could get us all killed. 

So I opt for the simplest thing I could think of to say. “What does any of that have to do with us splitting up and me talking to Purple?”

“Socializing, being involved with everyone is the best way. Also, people listen to Purple, so no one will doubt you if you get an alibi from him.”

“People listen to you too!”

“No… not if what I think is right.”

“What is it?” My skin tingles, the way you feel when you’ve cottoned onto a new line of reasoning. Lime has a theory, and he’s going to set it into motion. 

“I can’t tell you for now. You’ll see soon.”  
I nod, disappointed.

“It wouldn’t work anyway, if Yellow was the only Impostor… but hey. See you at the hourly meeting.”

“Okay, Lime,” I call after him. “Good luck with whatever you want to do.”

“Thanks,” Lime turns around for a brief second, before continuing on his path, throwing behind some other words. “I’ll need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what theories do you guys have? Tell me in the comments!


	21. CYAN

Yellow the Impostor. 

It felt as if the weight of the world just slid off my shoulders. Despite the theories going around… everything should be fine. The chances of having another Impostor are significantly low. 

Are they? Was what Yellow said just out of temper, or something more?

“I’m so relieved.” Orange’s mood has restored to where it always was, optimistic and energetic, it warms my heart. “It’s over.”

“I think so too,” If I say it enough, I can convince myself eventually. If the smartest people here don’t think so, who am I to disagree? But Orange’s mood is peachy, best to keep it that way.

If we’re all going to die anyway, would it be better to die knowing everything, sad and bitter and cynical, or die oblivious and happy? That’s a question best left to philosophy, because I don’t want to be in the position to answer it.

“But Cyan…” I sense it, the tilt of the sentence, symbolizing the shifting of the topic. “...there might be another Impostor.”

Orange saying it makes it real somehow. It’s no longer a ‘what if’? It’s a ‘might be’, and I resent it. Things are always much better left open ended.

I can’t deny that I don’t want to consider this possibility because I’m clinging onto the temporary sanity I have, which I lost before, when I was stuck with fear and paranoia. I want to imagine for a while, at least, that everything is completely fine, we can fix this ship and return to earth.

“I think… I don’t have much of an opinion.”

“You have to have one.”

“I really don’t.”

“Cyan, we’re talking about our fucking lives here, okay? It’s impossible you don’t have one. You do. Spit it out.”

“Orange,” I turn to him, face him properly. “Why have you been so upset of late?”

“Can you stop sounding like such a pretentious idiot? Who says ‘of late’ in conversation?” The air tenses, escalating or de escalating this fight counts on what I’ll say next.

In a rare moment of rebellion against peace, the words roll off my tongue before I think them over. “I happen to, and if you have a problem with that, leave.”

Right after I say it, I realize that Purple comes up with wittier remarks ten times faster, and ten times harsher, on a daily basis, and my big moment of rebellion just sounds petty and weak. 

“Really, Cyan?” I want out of this fight that’s starting. What was I thinking? I should not have said that. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“It’s… I really don’t have an opinion…” 

“What the hell? Am I supposed to believe that?” Orange’s incredulous tone is scaring me. Am I really the ridiculous one here? Well, yes, so why am I not telling Orange why? Because I’m a pussy.

“Yes.”  
“Cyan. What’s up?”  
“Nothing.”  
“Come on. What’s wrong?”  
“I said it’s nothing.”  
“Then why can’t you tell me your opinion?”  
“It’s fine. Stop.”  
“It’s not fine. Just tell me.”  
“Okay, fine. You.”  
“Me?”

“Yeah. I’m suspicious of you.”

Orange goes speechless.

“Hey, look, it makes sense, okay?” I don’t provide further elaboration.

“How could you think that of me?” Not ‘what evidence is there’ or ‘why do you think so’, huh. I initially said it just to get Orange off my back… but the question in return is seriously suspicious. 

“Why did you say that? ‘How could you think that of me’. You’re placing emphasis on feelings, not logic and facts here.”

“Is that your counterargument?”

“Yes.”

“Because I’ve been with you every second.”

“Except for the beginning, when the lights were sabotaged.”

“Oh God,” If Orange wants to kill me right now… “Are we really going back to that? Have I done anything slightly incriminating since then? No, right?”  
“Except for subtly manipulating me and multiple other things, nothing.”

“Cyan. I did not try to manipulate you.”

“Yeah, Orange, you did. The skill you need to put in to maintain your happy-go-lucky persona can be used in many other ways. Such as… being the least suspicious person out of all of us.”

“You’re saying I’m suspicious because I’m the least suspicious? Do you see any logic in that?”

“Yes. Of course. Everyone has been suspicious at least once, except for you, so-”

Orange stomps out of the room.

This isn’t a huge fight, there are no offensive personal attacks, no physical threats, no past histories brought up, nothing. Just like how I feel after Orange leaves. I try to summon regret, sadness, anything, but all I can honestly think is: good riddance.

Oh God.


	22. PURPLE

I can’t say for sure that I’ve been unshaken by everything so far, because that’s a lie. But Red has really improved, from an underdeveloped emotional state to somewhat stable.

Adversity brings out the best and worst in us, proved again. 

What did it bring out in me?

“So you want to hear my theories?” Kind of flattering, to be honest. “What about Lime?”

“We split up.”

“Ah,” I have no idea whether there’s a double meaning behind that, but I don’t push. I’m curious, but not enough to care. “The thing is…”

“Look, I get it. Everyone’s suspicious. But if anything, Lime knows we’re with each other, so I won’t kill you or anything.”

“True,” Not really. There are a million other ways things could go wrong, but expressing any form of doubt isn’t going to be good in the long run. And, honestly, I’m sick of traveling alone. I’ll just give Red a saturated version of what I think.

“I’m sure there’s another Impostor.”

“You do?” Red’s voice hits another octave. “Why?”

“It…” Yeah, why? I forgot what I was going to say. “It makes sense. And Yellow said so.”

“That’s it?”

“I can’t prove it, of course, unless someone does die soon.”

“Well, I don’t think Cyan and Orange would take to murdering one another, and you and I are here, and Lime knows that, so…”

Wait.

Once Red vocalizes the picture, I understand. 

Lime is the only one now that’s unaccounted for. Lime and Red split up for no good reason. Lime is alone now.

“Shit. It’s Lime.”

“What?” Red splutters. “Why?” 

“We have to get to Security. Check the cameras.” Fear pulses through my heart, a shot of adrenaline straight to my chest. “Lime’s smart. Lime’s alone. Shit. Where’s the other two?”

“Explain your reasoning, please?” Red, while not convinced, is running alongside me, through Storage, through the Lower Engine, our footsteps loud and clumsy, and finally, into Security. 

The lights go off.

“Oh my God,” Red gasps. We both stop in front of the computer, the faint glow the only light source in the room. “We have to fix the lights!”

“Are you insane?” I ask him. “You’re going to bumble through the darkness to get killed when Lime pops through the vent in Electrical? Stay with me!”

“No!” Red steps back. “I don’t trust you.”

“Really bad time to decide not to.” I ignore Red, stare at the cameras. Cyan and Orange would surely make it to Electrical to fix the wires. One of them might get killed. Shit. Red’s out of the room, everyone should be at Electrical.

Where would Lime go? Where would I go, if I were the Impostor? I would go to Electrical, blend in. I don’t know what to do. I should leave. I can’t, I have to stay here, so that just in case anything happens, I would be clear.

Simple.

Why is it taking them so long to fix the lights? Red would’ve finished by now. Anxiety levels are rising dangerously, the suit is too sticky and tight. What the hell is happening?

Oh, the lights are back on. 

“Hey, Purple,” Orange greets, then his voice falls on the ‘ple’. “What…”

“What?” I turn around to look at him, but out of the corner of my eye… there it is. 

Red never left the room, apparently. 

I meet the blank faces of Orange, Cyan, and Lime, and for the first time, have some sense of empathy for what every accused crewmate felt. 

“It’s Lime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting really, really close to the end!


	23. ORANGE

“If I were the Impostor, I would come up with something smarter than that, Lime.” Purple seems cool here, but I can detect the shakiness in his tone.

“Seriously? You got caught killing and you’re blaming it on me?”

“Yes, duh, because you are the Impostor!” Kudos to Purple, though, he’s mounting a legitimate defense here. “Think about it. Everyone, listen. Cyan and Orange were with each other, Lime forced Red to come to me, and Lime was wherever he was, alone. He was untraceable, while the rest of us had alibis.”

“Liar. Cyan, where was I?”

“Sorry, Purple. Lime was with me.” Cyan sighs. We both want this to be over.

“Come on! The lights were off, you didn’t have a hundred percent guarantee. There was a vent in Security, too. The Impostor could’ve easily vented in and out. And that Impostor is Lime.”

“Makes sense…” I mumble, and Lime hears it.

“Orange, you idiot! Don’t listen to his lies! He was the one in the room with the body!”

Genius versus Genius, and the winner is up to Cyan and I to decide. 

“Yeah, of course I was in the room with the body, because you set me up!” Purple screeches.

“You were right there, okay? I came in with Cyan and Orange! Give it up.”

“Give up what?”

“Defending yourself by attacking me! There’s no way you’re getting out of this. Guys, just vote him off.”

“What? No, vote this fucking Impostor off.” Purple huffs, and thrusts the tablets into our faces. “Here. Vote.”

God, do I really have to pick between the both of them? I look over at Cyan, but Cyan is pretending not to see. Lime and Purple are obviously voting for one another. If we want to actually eject someone, we have to vote for the same person.

“Who are we voting?” I lean in, as close as possible, to Cyan, and whisper.

Cyan shows me his screen.  
Oh.

VOTING RESULTS #4  
orange - 0  
lime - 2  
cyan - 0  
purple - 1  
skip votes - 1

Cyan hit ‘Skip Vote’ to let me decide. 

Of course, I picked the smarter one.


	24. CYAN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts with Cyan, ends with Cyan.

Lime’s gone. There’s only Purple, Orange and I left. 

We started with ten crewmates, and now we’re left with three (maybe). Now, I start to regret the various acts of cruelty we pulled, despite them being for a noble cause.

“That’s it.” Purple takes a long, deep breath, and falls back against his seat. “We did it, guys. Impostors are no more.” Purple laughs to himself. 

I don’t think I’ll ever laugh again.

I look at Orange.

“Purple,” Orange says in a small voice, “I need to talk to Cyan. Privately.”

“Okay, sure,” Purple gets off the chair, making a loud clunk against the metal as he does, and it’s oddly comforting. We can relax now, with the weight of what we’ve done on our shoulders. Except I’m the only one being pessimistic while Purple is nonchalant.

What does Orange want to talk to me about?

I follow him apprehensively, we make the way to Navigation. Am I getting a deep conversation under the starlight? That is, quite literally, the most romantic thing that could possibly happen in a sinking ship.

We stand next to each other, our eyes filled with galaxies, cosmos, everything, the empty parts of space, except we can’t even see each other’s eyes. 

“I apologise for ever doubting you.” I start. “I was wrong, obviously.”

“That’s… fine. That’s not…” Orange’s voice breaks off. Why? He’s definitely crying. “I…”

“Yeah,” I answer, in a hollow voice. “A lot of people died, still.”

“Yes… and that sucks. What I want to talk about, though… just… bear with me, okay? It will get awfully dramatic.”

“Sure.” Does this topic have anything to do with romance? My heart starts beating hard and fast, but this time, it isn’t adrenaline or fear or anything negative. It’s amazing. Life on earth feels like ages ago.

“I just want you to know… I always loved you, okay? I love you no matter what. I love you romantically and platonically and everything else. Really stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” I touch his arm. This is the most intimate thing we can do here. “I love you too. Even more stupidly.”

“Forever?”  
“Forever.”  
“Really.”

“We just survived two murderers, a council of murderers, and getting framed for murders, all in space on a sinking ship, and we’re both alive and in love with each other. Nothing says destiny like this.”

Orange’s cries transform into soft sobs. “Don’t say that! You’re making me cry!”

“Aw, it’s okay. Let’s hug-”

“I’m the other Impostor.”

My mind, which was just full of space and stars and planets and Orange, blanks, empties, leaving white fuzz and the feeling of death. My ears start to ring, like it’s compensating for the lack of everything in my head. 

“What… why?” Orange is crying too hard to be joking. 

“I’m sorry, Cyan. I’m the other Impostor.”

“This better not be some kind of elaborate joke.” I choke on the last word, the ship sways. It’s deathly quiet. Purple is elsewhere, clueless as to what just happened. 

What. 

What do I do.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t get to choose to be. I just had to do it…”

“Do what?”

“Kill.”

“My God.” My brain knows, well and consciously, that Orange is the perfect Impostor, all light-of-the-room-like and secretly intelligent, nothing close to the geniuses, but smarter than average, and more perceptive than average, but my heart is running overdrive, finding ways to prove myself wrong. “You were with me the whole time.”

“Yeah… you were my permanent alibi. Yellow slipped up, and I had to continue his mission. I had to. Do you understand?” 

“Explain everything.”

“Yeah,” Orange winces. “First murder. Black. So I said bye to you. Yellow and Pink looked like they went in together, but in reality they met just at the intersection, after Yellow used the vent in Medbay to Electrical to kill Black, then I sabotaged the lights, Yellow popped out of Security’s vent to conveniently meet Pink right where she was.”

“Fuck.” Orange wanted to frame me. 

“If that's what you're thinking, no, we were counting on no one being there, so Yellow and Pink would happen upon the body, and no one would get ejected."

"You knew I was going to Electrical."

"I... didn't think how fast..."

I look away. A dangerous cocktail of loathing and pity swells in my stomach. I want to feel bad for Orange, who's crying a little, timid, shy, and Orange who confessed love for me, but I can't. My brain has won. After all, wouldn't I have been better off stupid?

"You already know how Pink died. Yellow used the vent from Shields to Weapons. As for Red… the same vent, the same way. We were running there, but I’m faster, so I popped into Security, killed right under Purple’s nose, came back into Electrical, just in time to be with you all to walk into the room to accuse Purple.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m sorry.”

"Yellow tried to sell you out. You killed for Yellow regardless?"

"I know... I'm sorry. I made a promise. I love you."

"Fucking hell." I don't usually swear.

"I'm so sorry. I would tell you I didn't have a choice, but I did, but I couldn't let myself go this way. It was my job, you understand? I know you won't, and that's okay." Each word pierces through the thick film of obliviousness I'm trying to maintain, forcing me to face this. Face it. I can. I can't. 

“And the rest of the people died because we were all idiots,” I whisper. We were responsible for half of the murders. All the seemingly intelligent guesses, all lives ended, due to idiocy. Human lives taken in the name of the greater good, except the end, we barely achieved anything great.

All the crewmates are dead. All the crewmates killed them. 

“Forgive me.”

“I can’t.” I don’t. I won’t.

“Fine, then. I’m sorry, Cyan. I’m so sorry. I will kill myself after all this, I promise. I deserve it. I just had to do it. My goal. To kill everyone on this ship. I had to. I’m sorry.”

“You…” My feet lose their weight. I sit on the floor, more of slump, actually, looking completely like the defeated loser I feel like. “What are you?”

“I’m me, Cyan. I’m still a human. I’m just… a spy, whatever you call it, programmed differently, to alter my goals from ‘save the ship’ to ‘kill everyone’. That’s it. I still have human emotions.”

“You killed everyone.” I’m sounding like a record stuck on that one part, that one dramatic part. I’m feeling like that too.

I would rather be in hell than here. Hell, at least, is proof of something else existing after life. Here, life is somewhat meaningless, just a few souls on a ship, nothing compared to the grandeur of the universe. All of us could die and no one would be affected. Evidently. 

I'm no longer thinking in fluent sentences. I can't. I am thinking that a lot now. 

“I’m sorry, Cyan. Do you still love me?”

I look away from the cold floor, back to Orange, and try to feel something other than pain, slicing deep through whatever positive feelings I've had left. Of course I still do. No. I don’t know. I can’t answer that question.

“It’s okay,” Orange says softly, more to himself. “I understand.”

I look back at the ground. I can’t call an emergency meeting, given how Orange is continuously apologizing, he means to follow through with his murderous plans. I’m going to die. 

“Do me a favor.” I don’t ask, I state.

“What is it?”

“When you go to Purple, satisfy his curiosity. Let him ask you questions and all. I’m sure he’ll like that.”

“Yeah, he will, that genius brain can’t handle not understanding anything.” I wonder if Orange knows I don’t find any humor in his pathetic attempt at a joke. 

“Also. This is for the both of us.”

“For… us? You and me?”

“No, Purple and I.”

“Oh,” I stand up, head dizzy, and face Orange straight on. We’re exactly the same height, suggesting we’re equals, but I can’t think of us as anything similar to one another at all. I thought I had a lover in Orange. I thought there was a person in Orange. Isn’t it fitting that my death happens poetically and tragically? 

“I think I speak for both of us when I say we like to be ejected instead of brutally mutilated.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you…”

“I’ll go now.”

“Okay. Cyan. I’m sorry, again. I love you no matter what. I’ll love you even if our positions were reversed. I’ll see you in whatever happens after, soon.”

“Orange. I loved you too, until I learned you weren’t even capable of empathy. I won’t see you in whatever happens after, because I believe in heaven and hell, we both know who’s going where.”

I turn to look at space. It's going to be the last thing I see as I step off this ship, and the last thing I see. Not Orange. I can sort out whatever I feel for Orange in whatever what happens next. 

What if nothing happens next?

I can't do much to help that, can I? I can only accept my fate, and if this is my fate, what can I do to alter it at all? 

Of course, there are still unanswered questions right before death, because that's what life is like, isn't it? You search your entire life for the answer to one thing you've always had on your mind, just to realize too late that it really doesn't matter. If it's meant to be, it will be. This isn't meant to be at all. At least now I wouldn't have to contemplate questions like this anymore. 

I turn to look at Orange, all bravado lost. 

Orange looks back at me, impassive, because we still have spacesuits on. 

Goodbye, cruel world, I’ll die out of your reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that was it. I hope you all enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for staying for the ride and leaving kudos and comments! Feel free to leave more constructive criticism, really need it. Thank you guys! Love you all! *hugs*
> 
> Also: check me out on Tumblr? Haven't posted much there, but will make periodic weak attempts at humor. (same URL, @lowfunctioningpsychopath)


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